


Pas de Deux

by 221A_brina



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Ballet Terms, Breaking and Entering, Car Sex, F/M, Police Car, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roaming hands, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221A_brina/pseuds/221A_brina
Summary: After Phryne and Jack leave their B&E, things get a little out of hand.





	Pas de Deux

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a 1st for me on 2 levels. 1) 1st time attempting a fic from a prompt, which was: “On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that this gets us arrested?” 2) 1st time writing an E rated fic.
> 
> With Jack & Phryne continually dancing around/with each other, I got intrigued & enamored with ballet dance terms. An alphabetical list of the terms used is included at the end.
> 
> I almost subtitled this “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Writing a Sexy Fluff” – see end notes for explanation.
> 
> These 2 kids just got outta hand (pardon the pun). Wadn’t me. I’m just a voyeur reporter – I just report what I see. ;)

**Entrée: (The beginning of the pas de deux)**  
“On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that this gets us arrested?” Head cocked in his direction, her mouth a breath from his ear, Phryne Fisher queried Detective Inspector Jack Robinson as they tip-toed through the darkened flat, torches in hand.

"Well, Miss Fisher... seeing as you are in the company of an officer of the law and I sincerely cannot envision how I would even _attempt_ to file paperwork for arresting myself, I'd say tonight would qualify as special circumstances thereby nullifying the need for a scale altogether." The Inspector responded, initially straight faced, but lost the battle, a burgeoning grin erupted on his face joined by a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well... if THAT'S the case, Jack, then let's see just how much more trouble we can get into." Her face lit up with mischievous glee as she licked her ruby lips and handed him her torch. "Give me a leg up?" she looked in askance, locking eyes with his.

 **Pas de valse: (waltz step)**  
Jack rolled his eyes, smirked, and **entrelacé (interlaced)** his long capable fingers for Phryne to drop her fashionably clad foot into so she could scale the counter and reach the topmost cupboard. “One step ahead, as always, Miss Fisher.”

Her midnight velvet and silk ensconced **derrière** found its way front and center, right at the level of his widening eyes. _And lead me not into temptation, so I can deliver her from evil_. The errant altered scripture that popped into his head was decidedly apt, yet unsettling at the same time. To say she was a conundrum was an understatement of heroic proportions. Yet, he’d have it no other way. Have _her_ no other way.

“Pass me my torch?“ Now on solid footing on the counter, Phryne reached down as Jack placed it in her open palm. “Ah… my guiding light,” she quipped smiling beatifically, and aimed the beam into the now opened cupboard, her free hand rifling through its contents.

“Anything?” the Inspector glanced up in her direction, then swept his gaze and light around the room keeping an eye on their surroundings, praying their covert foray would remain undiscovered.

A few more moments passed by the time she triumphantly held up the item they had hoped to find. “Et voilà!” Phryne leaned over to hand him her torch along with a small envelope containing photographic plates. He tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket and deposited their torches in his coat pocket.

 **Adagio: (Slow movement typically performed w/the greatest amount of grace and fluidity)**  
Jack reached his hands up to her hips as her arms found their purchase on his wide, sturdy shoulders and lowered her down.

“You know you can count on me for ground support, Miss Fisher,” his smirk transforming into unabashed desire as she intentionally, with agonizing slowness, slid her lithe body down the muscular column of his as they **emboîté (fitted together)** , sparking to ignite an internal flame that threatened to engulf them both.

Her hands crept behind his neck, delicate fingers raking the short velvety hairs atop his collar, sending a tingling electrical current zinging straight to his ears then settling deep in the base of his spine. His body responding with immediacy to her every feather light touch.

“And I leave it to you, Detective Inspector, to protect me from any wayward brush with danger,” she murmured, her pupils enlarging, breath catching, her own body betraying its own surge of lightening racing through her veins causing her knees to buckle slightly.

As an almost act of self preservation, he grasped her hips tightly to keep her from sinking further. His eyes were unable to wrest themselves from her deep sapphire pools. It was quickly becoming more and more difficult for him to string a coherent thought together, let alone get his languid limbs into any semblance of locomotion. His tongue jutted out between his suddenly parched lips, licking both corners in an attempt to kick start his vocal chords. “I think we’d best extricate ourselves from any impending danger here, Miss Fisher, before our suspect makes an inopportune return to his residence.“ His voice, hoarse and husky, sent shivers down her back.

Phryne’s hands fluttered down from his nape to thread down his lapels, grazing his collarbone along the way. Her sultry look scorched his lips. Eyes riveted on hers, **en face (face to face)** , he slid a long expressive hand into hers and pulled them away from the counter turning to backtrack the way they’d entered.

 **Allégro (fast bright steps or movements)**  
The detectives exited the building hand in hand. Staying to the shadows they cautiously crept the two blocks back to his motorcar. They briefly separated to enter the vehicle, only to realign as if they were magnets, powerfully drawn together by a force of nature. **Cuisse (thighs)** locked side by side, Jack started the engine. Phryne splayed her hand firmly on his thigh. With a loud, toothy hiss Jack suddenly jerked the car out into the street. They drove in electrified silence, the air crackling and vibrating with a mixture of sexual tension, desire, longing, need, and untested emotion.

Furtive glances volleyed between them as the tension and the speed of the vehicle accelerated. A steady throbbing emanated from the contact point on Jack’s thigh to arrow firmly in the direction of his groin. Once out of the neighborhood he drove onto an uninhabited tree lined service road. He pulled the car over, shut off the engine and turned to Phryne as her hands raked up his thigh, wandering up his sides, sliding under his jacket to settle on his strong back.

An involuntary moan escaped his lips, his voice deep and gravelly. “Phryne…” he turned to cup her face in his hands as if in prayer, face hovering a hair’s breadth from hers, lips buzzing from their nearness. A myriad of emotions crossed his countenance in a matter of a moment. He gently brought her forehead to rest on his, thumbs framing her lips. His lids suddenly becoming too heavy to stay open.

Phryne’s hands reached up to encircle his face in continual worship of the angles of his cheeks. “Jaaack…” her body thrumming to his touch. Her voice brought his lids open in an instant, eyes unfocused, wild, wanting. Enthralled by his gaze, and struck by the emotions in her that leapt to echo his, she found she only wanted to dive deeper into it – something she had never wanted to do with anyone before - to get lost in those welcoming depths. _No_ , she realized to her utter astonishment... _Not lost. Found._

When their lips finally met, what had begun as something that some might say was a potential **divertissement (enjoyable diversion)** became so much more. At first tender and gentle, then probing, testing, each meeting the other move by move, step by step, until flowing seamlessly into the **entrechat (interweaving or braiding)** of tongues brushing, sweeping, embracing. Hands and bodies mirrored every move, both partners moving as one, finely in tune with the other. Their wild and rapid heartbeats quickly synchronizing. Ragged breaths were pulled from their depths and released in sounds of ecstasy, the **soutenu (sustained)** contact threatening to overwhelm them. 

With trembling hands, Jack gently pulled back to once more look upon the face of his raven-haired angel. “You…” he struggled for breath, “God… you taste like heaven…” his eyes softening, unable to distinguish between sensation and emotion.

“And you… you beautiful man, are heaven sent,” she said reverently, taking his tongue to task once more. Her lips began darting and dancing down his neck, her delicate fingers made light work of his tie, pulling it with a smooth ‘swish’ of sound as it **glissade (glided)** through his collar. Nimble porcelain digits released his top shirt buttons with ease revealing a glorious expanse of toned neck. Not one to forgo temptation for long, Phryne deliberately ran her tongue from the ‘V’ of his open collar up the line of his neck, scraping her teeth lightly up his adam’s apple. The buzzing in her teeth and tingling in her lips added to the growing ache of desire in her burning core.

He **cambré (arched)** his neck in response as it sent a chill racing along his skin, stoking the inferno blazing in his center, and persistent throbbing in his… “Christ Phryne!” his voice guttural as her hand made contact, he **allongé (stretched, made longer)** , straining the limits of his trousers, all thoughts quickly escaping only to be replaced by raw need. His hips **contretemps (beating against time)** to her artful ministrations, threatening **crescendo**.

“Unnhhhh… Phry… gaaah… god… wait…” his voice rasped. “Please?” he begged. His entreaty a riot of emotions as it instantly played over his visage.

Pausing momentarily, Phryne obliged **un petit (little, small)** as she reached for his belt. Jack lowered his hand to the summit of her mound. Fingers, deft and adroit, lightly glanced along the sensitive folds under the thin layer of wet silk, forcing out a high keening gasp as her **relevé (raised)** hips arched to meet him. They momentarily froze, unable to move from the explosion of sensation undulating through their bodies.

Jack quickly removed his hand from Phryne to take care of his trappings, as she followed suit, making quick work of her own fastenings in the small space. Once resolved, her hands resumed their **fondu (sinking down)** on him as his nimble fingers engaged in **manèges (circular pattern)** motions in her most intimate center. The pace **ramassé (picked up)** as they precariously teetered **sur les pointes (on the point)** of their frenzied **coda (final section or finale of the pas de deux)**.

Their continued **finger turns (a paired female and male dancer turning, their only point of contact - fingers or hands)** sending them inexorably **en haut (high)** to **rivoltade (turn over)** and **pirouette en dehors (spin turning outward)** in a release that brought **les etoiles (the stars)** bursting forth. A cascade of rapidly crashing waves tore through them, tandem cries **échappé (escaping or slipping movement)** from their lips.

Sated and exhausted, their bodies gradually **dégagé (disengaged)** and **retombe (fall back into the position you started in)**. Their breathing gradually slowing back to normal, as they lay entangled in each other’s tight embrace.

Jack brought his wet fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. He slid them one by one into his mouth, sinking each to the knuckle wresting off the remaining residue of her essence, and greedily licked them clean. His lids fluttered in desire as he moaned and removed the final digit from his mouth. She tasted like… “God, Phryne… you taste like ambrosia."

His partner’s moves mirrored his actions with the same results, her mouth savoring each drop. Desire ran unabated as she leaned in for another kiss, lips hungrily demanding his, tongues entwining. This phrase of the dance was a heady mixture of Phryne and Jack, creating a unique flavor all its own. Their essences blended and mingled as they tasted each other and themselves on tongues and lips. Their shared exchange bringing their **pas de deux** to its most intimate level.

When they eventually broke off the kiss to pull back and stare deeply into each other’s eyes, they were both surprised to discover they each had wet cheeks. Touched beyond words, Jack leaned his mouth onto each of Phryne’s falling tears, claiming them for his own and leaving in their stead a kiss of joy. Phryne gently cupped his face in her hands and dropped butterfly soft kisses on his tear-stained cheeks. A calmness she had never before known washed over her starting in her chest. It spread throughout her body to finally and firmly lodge itself into her soul.

In a timidly soft voice she hesitantly admitted, “You taste like home, Jack.” Her soul laid bare to him in this raw revelation. Several more tears ran down her cheek as he **enveloppé (enveloped)** her in his warm and loving arms. He soothed her brow, stroking her hair and kissing away each remaining tear until they were gone.

Understanding the immensely fragile gift he had been entrusted with, he responded the only way he knew how. “Phryne, you _are_ my home."

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, I use the ballet terms for their literal translation as opposed to the actual dance/body/foot movement.
> 
>  **adagio:** slow movement performed with the greatest amount of grace and fluidity.  
>  **allégro:** bright, fast or brisk steps and movements.  
>  **allongé: **stretched or made longer.****  
>  **cambré:** arched.  
>  **coda:** final part or finale of a pas de deux.  
>  **contretemps:** beating against time.  
>  **crescendo:** steady increase in force or intensity.  
>  **cuisse:** thighs.  
>  **dégagé:** disengage.  
>  **derrière:** behind or back.  
>  **divertissment:** enjoyable diversion.  
>  **échappé:** escaping or slipping movement.  
>  **emboîté:** fitted together.  
>  **en face:** face to face.  
>  **en haut:** high.  
>  **entrechat:** interweaving or braiding.  
>  **entrée:** beginning of the pas de deux.  
>  **entrelacé:** interlaced.  
>  **enveloppé:** enveloped.  
>  **finger turns:** a paired female and male dancer turning, their only point of contact - fingers or hands.  
>  **fondu:** sinking down.  
>  **glissade:** glide.  
>  **les etoiles:** stars.  
>  **menèges:** circular pattern.  
>  **pas de deux:** dance or steps for two.  
>  **pas de valse:** waltz step.  
>  **un petit:** little, small.  
>  **pirouette en dehors:** spin turning outwards.  
>  **ramassé:** picked up.  
>  **relevé:** raised.  
>  **retombe:** fall back again to original position where you started.  
>  **rivoltade:** to turn over.  
>  **soutenu:** sustained.  
>  **sur les pointes:** on the points.
> 
> Re: the potential sub-title… I was planning on making this a fun sexy fluff type piece with some fun word play to add to “Word Play” to make it the 2nd in the series. It seems that Phrack had completely other ideas. I just had to go with it. We all know better than to argue with them, don’t we?


End file.
